Hands of Fate
Gerome said:"Is there anything else? We should get a move on. This monster could be getting up to who knows what!"Hekapoo used her dimensional scissors to open a portal to the infamous asylum and walked out of the way for the rest of the group, "Spiders first."2099 gazed toward the portal for a moment, and upon collecting himself, glanced at Hekapoo briefly. "See you on the other side then," he only said, giving a two-fingered wave before hopping right into the portal.
Cynthia rested a hand on her hip as she watched the gang of spider-people hop through the tear in space, one-by-one.
On the other side lay a kind of place she'd never seen before...
...Someplace where she was bound to be a fish out of water.
But wherever evil existed, the soon-to-be-legendary hero, Cynthia, would follow!
Think of something cool to shout before the action...come on, Cynthia!
The knight straddled her pegasus, taking the opportunity to use the dagger at her hip to sharpen the edge of her battle-worn lance before it was her turn to enter.
"For those who shed innocent blood here today..."
As "Spider-Ham" hobbled through the portal with those stubby little legs of his, Cynthia quickly blurted something out and kicked her horse into action.
"I'll show no mercy! Here I come! HIYAAH!"
Cynthia shot her head in Gerome's direction, giving him an encouraging smile and a nod of her head before teleporting from one side of the planet to the other.
Phantom Thief of Hearts Bixir Verite Thepotatogod
Mitsuru Kirijo, esteemed head of the Kirijo Group, sat cross-legged across from her client at the other end of the long table. The white light of the mid-day sun bounced off the glassy surface of the table.
The two were alone in the room. Each move of their eyes―each shift of their postures―seemed perfectly calculated.
"So...you won't accept our buying your stock, even with the terms that have been laid out?"
"Correct. The Kirijo Group doesn't have any immediate plans to open to public capital."
The man brushed at his spotless suit as if to wipe non-existent dust off it.
"...Would you mind if I stepped out and took a call? I promise it won't take long."
The man rose from his chair and made a leisurely exit from the meeting room, probably for a much-needed coffee break and yet another word with his boss.
Mitsuru glanced at her watch. It had already been two hours.
If this kept up for much longer, she'd be missing a meeting with an old friend at the airport.
It's almost as if he can't deviate from his superior's script...
Mitsuru couldn't blame him for taking so many cautious steps in this negotiation, though. At this stage, the Togami Corporation was in dire straits. Who at that company could have anticipated a systematic assassination of its leadership at the hands of a terrorist group? That had happened months ago, and the company was still reeling from the aftermath.
Mitsuru looked out the window, her features reflecting the tension in her thoughts.
'Ultimate Despair'...what's your aim? Can 'Despair' itself be a goal worth seeking?
Ever since the Togami assassinations went public, Mitsuru had immediately taken the initiative to ramp up security for herself and the other major executives. Despite the tremendous costs it had taken to implement, she could rest easy knowing that they could sleep soundly at night following that string of terrible incidents.
. . .
"Safety" hadn't been a concern for her forefathers. Even in this day and age, Mitsuru had to work around-the-clock to right every one of their wrongs. Such was her duty—as a leader, and as the last of her family's bloodline.
Minutes passed, and the man representing the Togami Corporation re-entered.
Mitsuru felt her watch and phone vibrate rapidly.
"I'm terribly sorry for this taking so long, Kirijo-sama," he said before taking a seat.
Mitsuru checked her watch once again. This time, she held an entirely different expression—one of grave seriousness.
"Is something wrong, Kirijo-sama...? Can we continue?"
A shrill beeping noise began ringing from the device. Mitsuru hastily shoved herself away from the table.
The worst was coming to pass.
"This is an emergency. We'll have to schedule some other time."
And before the man could offer anything in retort, Mitsuru had already rushed out into the hallway.
She immediately relayed the signal to all nearby available operatives amid the hurried clacks of her heels.
"Akihiko? Akihiko, do you read?!"
The rough voice of a young man who had clearly been fumbling for his phone came from the other end of the call.
"I'm here. What's the situation?"
"That was Jameson at Ravencroft. The only time he would send a distress signal like that—"
Mitsuru pushed through the front doors of the building, heading right for the limousine that was waiting for her at the curb ahead.
Akihiko's voice faltered as he realised the gravity of the situation. "Is if...something dangerous was breaking out...and heading right for us."
Mitsuru sprang into the passenger's seat as her chauffeur roared the vehicle off the pavement.
"I'm afraid we'll need to be braced for the worst possible scenario. Cletus Kasady has breached containment."
Mitsuru heard the clap of Akihiko's loud footsteps on the speakers.
"Guess I'll just have to be ready for him before he reaches the island, huh?!"
"Go to Clair Avenue. I'll be sending a chopper your way."
"Alright. Anyone else coming?"
"One of our Anti-Shadow Weapons is already en route."
"Great. We're gonna need all the firepower we can get."
"I'll be meeting you at Port Island Station. He landed there once, and he's going to do it again."
"He just wants to get his hands bloody as soon as possible...tch."
"That's exactly why we can't let it happen again."
Mitsuru thumbed for another name high in her list of contacts.
"I need someone else on the line. Call me if something comes up."
. . .
"History tends to repeats itself."
That is a saying often attributed to large-scale societal cycles looping over the passing of centuries and decades.
But in the span of a few short years, the people of Tatsumi Patch had witnessed firsthand the heartbreaking effects of unspeakable violence. Few had fully healed the scars from when their loved ones were torn apart by a blood-red psycopath, and when no one's son or daughter returned from the halls of Hope's Peak Academy a few months later, those wounds were re-opened.
A few years ago, Cletus Kasady had unknowingly fed the engine of Despair with an inspirational act of massacre.
And now, Despair had brought the same man back to for an encore of that act he held so dearly in his cold, dead heart—indiscriminate slaughter of the innocent.
Phantom Thief of Hearts Bixir Verite Thepotatogod